


Come Take Your Medicine

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Spanking, a bit of aftercare, birthday fic, dont light your torches i dont care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: Harry's in a mood, luckily Louis knows exactly how to handle it.





	Come Take Your Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> For my platonic soul mate, Chelsea on the occasion of her birthday. 
> 
> I wrote this in an hour and could employ no beta, so sorry for all mistakes!

Louis’s right smack in the middle of stealing a pair of Harry’s socks when a crash sounds through the flat so loudly his heart attempts to fly up his throat. 

It’s followed by a mumbled but vehement  “fuck” and instantly Louis knows what’s going on. 

 

Well not the exact details maybe, but seven years of experience have him fairly confident in his assumption. 

 

He finds him standing at the kitchen sink, scrubbing furiously at a pan that Louis can only assume personally insulted him somehow. His back, made broader than it’s ever been by the rigorous tour workouts, is stiff and tense. On the floor between them is a scattering of blackened bits and what Louis suspects was once the toaster. 

 

He walks on tiptoe around the mess and goes to Harry, propping his hip up on the counter next to the sink. “Having a smashing morning, Haz?” 

 

Harry’s eyes stay locked on the sudsy water, but his jaw ticks in response. It’s another two or three minutes before he mumbles something darkly under his breath. 

 

His dark moods rarely make an appearance anymore, emotionally he'd evened out significantly around 20 partly due to being cured of the illness that is teenage hormones and partly to their discovery of a mutual proclivity to certain extracurricular activities. But when they do come around, Louis is practically drowned in the desire to get his hands on every inch of him, soothe him. 

 

He takes in the position of his shoulders- slightly turned in like he’s trying to curl in on himself- and decides to hold back, just for a bit. “I know you’ve been globetrotting as of late, but I still only know one language, love. Care to try again in English?” 

 

Like Louis knew it would, the mention of his tour darkens Harry mood further. He tosses down the pan with a huge splash of suds and steaming water and spins around to face him, face murderous. 

 

“I said,” he spits out, “my fucking toast is burnt.” 

 

Louis keeps his face absolutely blank and flicks his eyes from Harry's face to the crumbs on the floor, and back again. "I see." 

 

Harry’s nostrils flare. Nearly there then, Louis notes. “I just want a piece of fucking toast in the morning but that’s not possible because you’ve got to have the most complicated gadgets in the fucking store no matter if they actually fucking work properly.” 

 

Three fucks in one go, this is a serious one. "I didn't actually buy that toaster, Niall gave it to us if you remember." 

 

Harry’s got the jar of decorative pasta up off the counter and hurled across the kitchen before Louis has even finished the sentence. Louis keeps his body as still as humanly possible. 

 

“Of course I fucking remember,” he explodes, probably waking up half of London. 

 

His chest heaves with rage and exertion. His hands hang at his sides, clenched tightly into fists. In careful silence, Louis watches the tension roll off Harry’s body in waves. When Louis’s face shifts from politely disinterested to stony, contrition flickers in Harry’s eyes just for a second, then they alight again with frustration.

 

He’s such a stubborn brat when he wants to be. But he doesn’t want to be, not really. That’s why he’s got Louis, that’s why he  _ needs _ Louis. 

 

“That’s the second possession of mine you’ve smashed this morning, Harry.” Louis’s voice drops an octave practically on its own, his mind and body so used to slipping into this role. “It would seem living the gypsy life has robbed you of respect for my home.” 

 

Harry's entire body jerks like he's on a line. He's obviously furious and using every bit of self-restraint to keep from breaking something else. "Our home." 

 

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen in a display of disbelief. “It’s been only me here for a year. Then you waltz in, start ripping it apart one room at a time, and you think you’ve got the right to call it our home?” 

 

“I earned the right when I paid for half-“ 

 

Faster than the time required for a single breath, Louis reaches up, fists a handful of Harry’s curls and yanks, pulling his face down roughly. 

 

Breath ghosting over Harry’s full lips, he rubs their noses together, deceptively gentle. “I think it’s time you shut up, don’t you love?” 

 

Harry inhales sharply but snaps his jaw shut. Louis pulls his head back with the fistful of hair and takes in his expression for a moment. Satisfied that he's ready to listen, Louis gives him a small smile and sharp pat on his cheek. "Good boy." 

 

Harry's eyes slide shut at the praise but snap open again when Louis makes a displeased noise and yanks on his curls again. "Boring you into a nap, am I? Let's fix that." 

 

Keeping his grip on his hair, Louis grabs his arm with the other hand and spins Harry away from him to face the island and pushes him down over it. 

 

Harry grunts when his Louis’s hand pushes down hard in the middle of his back and splays him out against the granite, but stays otherwise silent. 

 

“Good,” Louis says again, keeping his voice low. He reaches around and deftly unties the knot of Harry’s joggers. “Do you know what’s coming, Harry?” 

 

Trapped between Louis and the counter, Harry shifts uneasily, moving his hips forward and then back again. Uncertain if he's being given permission to speak. 

 

Knot untied, Louis yanks the joggers down in one swift motion and lets them pool at Harry’s feet. “Answer me, pet. Go ahead.” 

 

“Yes,” Harry breathes out, breaking off with a hiss when Louis starts gently kneading his ass with one hand and pressing kisses to the small of his back. 

 

Louis makes a pleased noise against his skin and nips, once, twice at the soft plush of Harry’s hip. “And do you deserve it, love? What do you think?” 

 

Harry shifts back again, coming in contact with Louis groin and the hard line of his dick in his joggers. He lets out a tiny whimper again. “Yes.” 

 

Louis fights back the temptation to grind forward into him. His dick is begging him to just fuck him hard and fast against the counter, out in the open expanse of the kitchen where anyone could walk in and see. But, that’s not what Harry needs. Not right now anyway. 

 

“Yes, I think so too,” Louis says, keeping his tone low but conversational. “Ten I think ought to do it. You’ll keep count for me won’t you, Love. I get distracted sometimes, wouldn’t want to lose track and have to start all over again.” 

 

Harry shudders beautifully, nodding eagerly. Again, Louis’s dick tries to point out the finer points of getting inside Harry without any further hesitation, but Louis takes a deep breath and fights the urge back. 

 

The first smack sounds like a crack of thunder in the silent flat. Harry’s toes curl against the cool tile floor and he gives a  full body shudder. “One,” he whispers. 

 

His ass, lick every other perfect inch of him, responds immediately to the mistreatment, turning a pretty shade of pink in the shape of Louis’s hand. 

 

“That’s for leaving me for an entire year to go play your songs to strangers.”

 

He runs his hand over the spot appreciatively before bringing it down again, a little harder this time - building up.

 

Harry grunts but pushes back towards Louis, chasing his hand. “Two.” 

 

"That's for marching around every day like you're in charge. Telling dozens of people what to do, when to do it. You're not in charge, are you Harry?" 

 

It’s the same for the third, fourth, although Louis speeds up between each smack, spurred on by the noises Harry’s making against the island. 

 

“Hold still, Love,” Louis orders tersely, rubbing over the warm skin. Harry jerks again with a groan. “Hold still, I said, or I’ll make you.” 

 

Harry responds violently, dragging his hands along the counter and shifting his hips hard against Louis. With a small noise of understanding, Louis takes his hand from Harry’s hands and grasps Harry’s wrists in it, holding them tightly. 

 

“Oh I see,” he murmurs. “You want to be held down. Held down and beaten, is that it?” 

 

Harry slumps against the counter, going boneless and vibrating with anticipation. Louis smacks him again, a good bit harder than the others, and Harry practically keens. 

 

“Five,” he whines. He looks so beautiful like this, open and waiting for whatever Louis wants to give him. 

 

So, Louis gives him three more in quick succession, grinding teeth in an effort to hold on to his self-control. Harry's constantly whimpering now in between calling out the sixth, seventh, and eighth smack. He's a mess, sobbing gently and breathing raggedly. But, he's staying still, as still as he can. Being a good boy. 

 

Louis tells him so, between the ninth and tenth smack. The last one echoes through the flat, harder than any of the others and Harry screams. 

 

Louis releases his wrists and snakes an arm around his front, pulling him upright and against his chest. 

 

“Tells me who’s in control, Love,” Louis murmurs in his ear. He wraps his other hand around Harry dick and strokes him quickly. “Who’s in control.” 

 

Harry sobs and shudders, hard. “You. You, Lou. You’re in control.” 

 

His tone has Louis very nearly losing it and coming all over Harry's ass. He closes his eyes and struggles for control. "Yeah baby, that's right. Why don't you come for me, Love? Hmmm? Be a good boy for me." 

 

Harry’s head snaps back and his whole body goes taut and still. It had scared the shit out of Louis the first time they’d done that, he’d thought he’d done something terribly wrong. 

 

Now he knows it means he’s done everything exactly right. 

 

Harry breathes out one more hushed “fuck” then he’s shaking apart in Louis’s arms and coming in thick ropes all over himself. 

 

Louis kisses him through it, pressing his lips on every inch of skin he can reach- his neck, his back, the space between his shoulders- and murmuring to him between each touch. 

 

“So good for me. So sweet,” he praises. “So amazing. I can’t believe I got so lucky.” 

 

Harry just breathes in his arms for a moment, letting Louis support most of his weight. When his breath starts to even out, he turns slowly in the circle of Louis’s arms and drops to his knees, taking Louis’s joggers down with him.

 

Louis looks down at him with hooded eyes and cards a finger through his hair. “You look so beautiful like this. Fucked out and looking for cock.” 

 

Harry's eyes darken and his tongue darts out quickly across his bottom lip. Slowly, he drops open his mouth as wide as it will go and holds it like that, staring into Louis's eyes.

 

Louis groans and pulls him forward onto his dick, nearly buckling at the knees at the heat. “Jesus Christ, your mouth.” 

 

Harry hums and sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks relaxing his throat. Louis curses again and fucks forward, once, twice, three times and then spills down his throat. 

 

He drops to the floor and pulls Harry into his lap, pressing kisses all over his face and licking into his mouth, letting the taste of his own come slide across his tongue. 

 

After several minutes, Harry pulls back with a satisfied smile and drops his head on Louis’s shoulder. 

 

“You under?” Louis asks softly, pushing his hand up under Harry’s T-shirt and rubbing his fingers in gentle circles against his skin.

 

Harry sighs happily and shakes his head. “No, not really.” 

 

Louis hums and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Feel better?” 

 

Harry snuggles closer. “Yeah, much.” 

 

“Good.” Louis lets his eyes fall closed and he tilts his head back against the cabinets, exhausted and satisfied. 

 

He’s nearly fallen asleep when Harry speaks up again. “Hey, Lou?”

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Remind me to send Niall a thank you card for the toaster.” 

 

Louis snorts. “You and me both babe.”

 

The next week, when Niall gets his mail and finds a dozen thank you cards, 6 from Harry and 6 from Louis, he decides he rather not know. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
